


Redshift

by ArtemisPendragon (ArtemisPendragyn)



Series: Written in the Stars [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm here for a gay time, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Not an accurate time, Post-Canon, Post-TRoS, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisPendragyn/pseuds/ArtemisPendragon
Summary: After the battle of Exegol, Rey, Finn, and Poe struggle to adjust to post-war life. Finn starts a rehabilitation center for Stormtroopers, and in the process learns a devastating truth about his biological family. Bored and restless, Poe helps restore ruined civilizations and hunts down old enemies, including a notorious gangster with ties to the First Order, setting himself on an inevitable path to self-destruction.Meanwhile, Rey travels across the galaxy looking for a place to build a new Jedi temple, hoping to train the next generation of Jedi far from the corrupt traditions and tainted history of their predecessors. Haunted by flashbacks and visions every time she reaches out to the Force, she fights to forget her past and embrace her future.Temporarily separated, the trio is reunited by the discovery of a mysterious message containing information that could change the galaxy forever.
Relationships: Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Jessika Pava/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: Written in the Stars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638520
Comments: 57
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So anyway I should really be working on one of my 10 million other WIPs but I have the attention span of a fucking goldfish and wanted to write something set in the Star Wars universe, so here we are. That's it. I have no excuse.

**Chapter One ******

********

********

There were too many of them. Cutting through the darkness, backlit by red and green flashes, dipping and twisting like sparrows in a storm. Metal feathers glowed and melted, twisted wings going up in flames. The fires were instantaneous and short-lived, bursts of oxygen consumed as cockpits cracked and depressurized, debris scattered across the vacuum of space. 

In the distance, someone was screaming.

 _Not possible,_ Poe thought. His hands hurt from being clenched too tight, his ship shuddering around him. _In space, no one can hear you scream._

He came up gasping. The room was pitch black. He was cold. He was in his flight suit, but instead of falling through the vast expanse of space, he found himself staring up at a flashing screen.

 _Simulation,_ he thought, and winced. He was never going to hear the end of this. Pushing himself upright, he yanked off his helmet and ran a hand over his face. He was drenched in sweat. He had no idea how long he’d been out, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. More than that, and Jess would’ve noticed something was up and dragged him out.

Shutting down the simulation, he asked BB-8 to open the training pod and stepped out, slightly unbalanced, into watery sunlight filtering through blue-tinted windows. His droid followed him down the door-turned-ramp, beeping its concern. When he didn’t respond BB-8 did a lap around the room as if working off nerves, an endearingly human reaction to an exhaustingly human situation. 

The room was full of training pods and wreathed in windows looking out over an endless sea of city. They were at least twenty floors up, standing in a spire of metal and concrete stretching toward the darkening sky like a silver finger pointing out the stars.

At first, living on Coruscant had been exciting. Exciting, and a little intimidating. But Poe didn’t have to be there all the time; in fact, he spent most of his time off-world helping with post-war repairs and refugee evacuations. Many planets and moons previously occupied by the First Order were in shambles, no longer fit for intelligent life. And on top of that, there were plenty of First Order sympathizers and supporters scattered to the darkest, seediest corners of the Galaxy. It was up to Poe and his Black Squadron to track these people down, to bring justice to those who the First Order had hurt, killed, enslaved. It was a job Poe didn’t take lightly. In fact, ever since the war ended, it had consumed his every waking moment. Of course, his non-waking moments were already spoken for. The war was over, but it lived in him, a hideous shimmering thing floating just out of sight, waiting for any sign of weakness. Waiting for him to reveal his pain.

As he stepped out of the simulation pod, hands clenched by his hips, he hoped that pain didn’t show on his face. Judging by the look Jessika Pava gave him, it did.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she said. “I know you’re bored, but—”

“I’m not bored.” Poe flexed his fingers. He was still shaky, adrenaline like fire in his blood. “I’m just…” He made a vague gesture.

“Bored?” Jess crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I know. Me too. So let’s get up there and try this stupid maneuver before we lose the daylight. Wait too long and air control won’t give us clearance to fly over heavily populated areas, which is basically the entire planet.” 

He knew she was humoring him. This was a dangerous maneuver and there was no way in hell she would actually let him try it right now. Not in this state. But she was giving him an out—a chance to do this on his own terms. He felt a rush of affection for her. Despite everything that had happened, all the horrible things he’d seen and done, his team had stuck with him until the end.

_The end. As if a war ends when the last shot is fired. As if the bodies stop falling when the white flag waves._

Sighing, he shook his head. “Actually, let’s come back to this later. I’ve got other things I’ve been meaning to deal with.”

She beat him to the elevator, slamming a gloved finger on the ‘down’ button. While they waited, she turned to face him, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You okay, Dameron?”

Poe tried to think of a suitable answer that wasn’t just, _Yeah, I’m fine._ That was bullshit, and they both knew it. After a long, awkward pause, he said, “I’m getting there.”

The elevator opened. They stepped inside, and she put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once. “You let me know,” she said, “if I’m pushing you too hard.” 

He raised his eyebrows, staring at her very serious face. But then he caught the upward twitch of her lips and put on an expression of mock disdain. “ _You_ pushing _me?_ I seriously doubt it.”

They reached the bottom floor. Jess ducked past him, throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “Let’s move, General.”

“You got somewhere to be?”

“You’re the one who’s got urgent business to attend to.”

“Guess you’re right.” Poe sighed. His momentary good humor evaporated and he passed a hand over his face, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m gonna head over to HQ Prime and see if they’ve got the files I requested.”

“What files?”

Poe didn’t answer. He avoided her gaze. 

“What files, Poe?” Jess repeated. Her voice was lined with suspicion, and beneath that, an undercurrent of concern. 

“Files,” he said unhelpfully. “If it turns out to be something, I’ll let you know.”

As he swept past her, headed for the nearest exit, she caught his wrist and spun him around. “Is it dangerous?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

She sighed. “I wish I did.” 

He pulled free and stepped through the door, out onto the burgeoning streets of Coruscant just as the first drops of rain began to fall. He was halfway to the New Galactic Alliance’s prime headquarters when he realized he was still wearing his flight suit. 

_Whatever._ The rain soaked into his hair, running down his face, dripping off his chin. _Everyone there knows I’m a mess. Might as well look the part._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe Dameron: Resistance hero, best pilot in the galaxy, and professional idiot with issues. I love him.


	2. Chapter Two

****

**Chapter Two**

"We found him!" Captain Denn approached Finn at a dead sprint, waving him down from across the ship’s hangar. He was out of breath, bending to brace his hands on his knees, wiping sweat from his brow. "We found him," he repeated, his young, handsome face scrunched up as he pushed himself upright. 

Finn put a hand on the Captain's shoulder to steady him. "Found him? Wait, found _who_?"

"A recruiter. _The_ recruiter."

It took a moment for the gravity of the situation to sink in. When it did, Finn retracted his hand, suddenly jittery with nerves. "You mean you found the guy who—?”

"Yeah. He claims he recruited you." The Captain grimaced. 

"Recruited," Finn echoed. His own voice sounded fuzzy, far away. "Right. Yeah." He shook himself. "Take me to him?"

The Captain nodded vigorously. "Of course. Maybe we should wait ‘til we're back on Coruscant to do the interrogation. Doing it in an abandoned First Order ship is kind of—"

"Smart," said Finn. The Captain looked surprise, and a little confused. "No, I see your point,” Finn amended, “but if this really is the guy..."

"This ship's neutral ground." A look of understanding dawned on Captain Denn's face. "In case things go poorly."

This of course meant _'in case you lose your mind and kill a prisoner of the New Galactic Alliance_ ', but neither of them wanted to say it aloud.

"Yeah," Finn said. "Yeah, exactly."

A beat of uncomfortable silence. 

"Follow me." Captain Denn jerked his head toward the sliding metal doors at the far end of the hangar. "We've got him locked up in one of those sealable alcoves. He refused to take the armor off. We figured it wasn't worth fighting him over it." He made a face.

Finn followed the Captain to the doors. His hands shook. His mind alternated between panicked static and boiling anger. "Armor or not, he’ll tell me what I want to know." He barely recognized the venom in his own voice. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, he sounded more like himself. "Thanks," he said sincerely. "Thanks for sticking with this."

Captain Denn smiled. He pressed a button beside the sliding doors and they glided open with a mechanical hiss. "Any time, General," he said. "Right this way."

* * *

The Trooper was cuffed and restrained when Finn arrived. His team—the wonderful, kind-hearted people who had followed him around the galaxy for the past two weeks rescuing and rehabilitating ex-Stormtroopers—had strapped this man to a metal table in one of Kylo Ren's infamous torture chambers. They were not cruel people, but anger and resentment could turn kindness to cruelty in the blink of an eye.

For a moment Finn stood on the threshold staring at the Trooper, who was still wearing his full armor, head down, breathing heavily. For a moment Finn was back in another time, in another chamber just like this, staring at a Resistance fighter bloodied but unbroken, terrified but cradling the smallest spark of hope behind burning eyes. Finn remembered the moment that spark became a flame, then a fire, shining bright as they broke free of the First Order in a stolen ship destined for the shifting sands of Jakku.

"Get him out of that thing." Finn didn’t mean to sound so angry. But he was. He was angry. Because if he hadn't turned, if he hadn't found his own way to the light, that could be him strapped to that table. "Let's hear him out. We've gotta be better than this." 

_‘Better than them,’_ hangs unspoken in the air.

The man and woman guarding the prisoner quickly moved to undo the straps and shackles. Both were young—even younger than Finn, just a few years into adulthood—and both looked severely apologetic. Like many young people, they were impulsive, reckless. They'd volunteered for this job with enthusiasm and vigor, clearly excited for the chance to save lives in more ways than one, but under the surface they were still angry, resentful. After all, wars didn't end when the white flag waved.

Once the prisoner was unchained (save for his wrists, which stayed cuffed in front of him) Finn approached, hands up and out in a universal display of good will. The closer he got, the more the Trooper tensed. Even though the prisoner's armor covered every inch of his body, Finn could read him like a letter. This man was nervous, scared even, but was trying desperately not to show it. Stormtroopers were trained for this sort of thing. It was likely he’d rather die than give himself up to the enemy. 

A second later, Finn realized he'd misread the signs. The Trooper surged up and dove at Finn, knocking him back against the wall with the link between his cuffs pressed to Finn's throat. "Traitor," the Trooper hissed. "I should kill you right now."

Finn heard his companions shouting, scrambling for blasters. "No!" he ordered, raspy and dry-mouthed. "Don't shoot."

"So it's true." The Trooper tightened the chain across Finn's throat, pushing until Finn gasped and choked, hands rising to his neck. "You really did turn against us." 

Finn shook his head, trying and failing to push the Trooper away. He was weak and shaky with adrenaline, full of a dark, soul-deep fear. A fear of who he could have been. "Let me explain."

"General?" It was Captain Denn. He sounded caught between shock and confusion, anger and alarm. "General! Hold on, I’ll—"

"Don't kill him," Finn repeated. "I need him alive."

The Trooper laughed. The mask distorted the sound, twisting his voice like melted metal. "You sure do, don't you FN-2187? You need to know. You need to know what happened to them."

"Yeah," Finn panted. "So tell me. Might not look like it, but I've still got the upper hand. If you tell me, I'll give you a fair trial."

More twisted laughter. "And if I don't, then what? You'll shoot me in the head and dump me out of the airlock? Noble rebels. Even in victory you're cowards."

"Hey, what do you want, man?" Finn was angry again. Anger gave him the burst of strength needed to shove the Trooper away. "I'm not here to kill you. Any of you. I'm here to help."

"Help?" the Trooper sneered, but he dropped his offensive stance, taking a step back and tilting his head contemplatively. "Resistance rebels sparing Stormtroopers? I don't buy it."

"Not just sparing." Finn rubbed his throat. There would be a bruise there, deep and painful and raw. "We've got a base on Coruscant. We're rehabilitating Troopers, helping them reintegrate into society."

"Like I said, noble." Finn heard the sharp smile in the man's words. "Cowards with a conscience."

Finn took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count to eight. Just like Rey had taught him. Immediately his heart stopped racing, his body tingling with something approaching calm. "You recruited me," he said.

"Call it what it is." The Trooper didn't sound like he was smiling anymore. "I stole you from your crib while your parents cried and pleaded. While they bargained for the lives of their children, treasonous enough to think they could make a deal with me behind the First Order's back. They died for their insolence, and I took you off that hell-hole planet and gave you a purpose, a job, a place in the galaxy. And you threw that all away." 

Finn barely heard the second half of the tirade. His ears rang, mouth bone-dry. "Children," he managed at last. "You said children."

"Oh, yes. Your brother and sister were loyal Troopers, never questioned orders during training, always did as they were told. Much more loyal than their rebellious little brother."

" _Were_." Finn's throat closed up, and it wasn't from the bruises. "So they're...?”

"Your sister died over Exegol. Shot down by the Resistance and their allies."

Finn fought the urge to leap forward, to grab the Trooper by the throat and throw him down. Instead he clenched his jaw and breathed. _In, out. In, out. Count to eight._ "And my brother?" 

The Trooper tensed again. "You know," he said, "he was in the same unit as you. They kept you together because they knew you’d make an effective team, that he'd gladly protect you with his life. His poor little brother who'd never known any other life, snatched from their miserable home by monsters in white. And if he ever told you the truth, you'd both be executed. Painfully."

Finn's mind raced, cycling through everyone in his unit, searching desperately for anything beyond the monotonous familiarity of passing faces. Looking for himself in a crowd of hollow-eyed soldiers trapped in white plastic shells.

"He died on Jakku," the Trooper hissed. "Your Resistance pilot shot him down. You were there. You saw it happen. That's what they told me.

For a moment, the world went red. "No," Finn said. "That's a lie." But he felt it. Deep in his chest, in the place that had burned when Rey died. In the place where the Force lived in him. "No," he said again. And he lunged.

"Finn!" A familiar voice cut through the static ringing in his ears. He was screaming but he couldn't hear it, throat raw and tight, fingers scrabbling at the Trooper's helmet. Hands gripped his shoulders, trying to pull him away, but he shrugged them off.

The struggle was over in an instant. The helmet came loose and Finn threw it across the room. It struck the wall and spun, coming to rest against the foot of the metal table. Finn sat back, gasping, one hand resting on the Trooper's exposed throat, his knees digging into the soft spot between the torso armor and the thigh plates. 

The Trooper was younger than Finn had expected. Maybe fifty-five at most, with short salt and pepper hair and blue eyes. In the moment directly after losing his helmet, his face was frozen in an expression of fear. "I was younger than you," he gasped. "When they made me steal kids. I was a kid myself."

The moment of vulnerability caught Finn by surprise. He let up just enough for the prisoner to take one deep breath. And that was a mistake.

This time, Finn's companions didn't hesitate. As the Trooper flipped Finn over and closed his hands around Finn's throat, eyes wild with deadly intent, a blaster shot rang through the room like a death knell. The Trooper went limp, body a dead weight slumped over Finn.

Someone shouted his name. The same hands that had tried to pull him away before grasped at his shoulders, dragging him out from under the fallen Trooper. "Finn." It was Rose. She knelt beside him, hands on his face, concern in her eyes. "Finn. Are you okay? Please say you're okay."

He blinked rapidly, shaking with grief and rage. "Rose, I..." But he couldn't finish that sentence. He couldn't lie to her. "I need a moment," he said. "Alone."

Rose helped him to his feet. "Here?"

“Yeah.” Finn inhaled shakily, avoiding her gaze. She took his hands, squeezing them. "Is he dead?"

"No." Rose didn't sound happy about it. "I stunned him. He'll have a nasty headache and maybe some bruising, but he'll be fine."

Finn nodded. His head throbbed to the frantic pulsing of his heart. "Get him back to our ship. Keep him chained. We definitely can't trust him yet." _Or ever,_ he thought. But then he remembered the fear on the Trooper's face, his raw, pained confession. He closed his eyes, wincing. "Hey, Rose? Just don't hurt him, okay?"

Rose squeezed his hands again, then let go. "Of course not. We're better than that."

When he opened his eyes, she was gone. So were the others, and they'd taken the Trooper with them. 

Finn was alone.

Crossing the room, he picked up the discarded helmet. His hands shook, fingers slick with sweat as he stared into the blank eye holes, his distorted reflection shimmering in the shiny plastic dome. For a moment he bowed his head, forehead pressed to the helmet's crest. 

_I had a sister._

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe evenly and failing miserably. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…_ Static filled his head, pain shooting through his throat and jaw. 

_I had a brother._

Pain rose inside him, a bitter snake with curving fangs. _They're dead. They're dead, and I know who killed them._

For a moment, blinding fury rose up inside him. His grip on the helmet tightened, the sharp plastic edges biting into his palms until they drew blood. And then he turned and hurled it against the wall with as much force as possible, screaming as he did. The helmet cracked down the middle. Fragile, cheap, useless. Replaceable. Disposable. 

Finn fell to his knees. Tears ran down his face, hot as the blood welling from his palms. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the silent, empty room. "I'm so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally thought it would be cool if Jannah was actually Finn's sister but then I decided the whole "and they were related! (Oh my God they were related)" trope has already been so thoroughly used in Star Wars and I like their canon dynamic and relationship better anyway :)
> 
> Anyway, I sure do love to torture my faves!!! I'm one angst-loving motherfucker!! Cheers to that!!


	3. Chapter Three

****

**Chapter Three**

Rey wiped at her face, chasing away flies and mosquitoes that hung ever-present in the air, whining and circling. Her boots were caked in mud, and so was the rest of her. She was covered in scratches from the less-than-friendly flora covering the otherwise uninhabited surface of the tiny jungle moon, traversing pathless tangles with only blood-sucking bugs for company.

Swearing colorfully, Rey pulled her foot out of a particularly nasty patch of mud, looking for somewhere drier to step. Of course, there was no such things as _‘dry’_ on this forsaken sphere of inhospitable greenery, and she quickly gave up on making it any further before nightfall and set up camp in a mess of vines and broad-leafed palms. 

She was just beginning to wonder if she should save her rations for morning (she’d expected there to be more naturally available food in a place as vibrant and lush as this) when there was a crash in the bushes behind her. Sitting straight up, she reached for her lightsaber, every muscle tensed for a fight.

“Hello?” The dense foliage absorbed her voice. “Is there someone there?”

There was in fact someone there. Or some _thing_ , and she quickly figured out that it was as unfriendly as its native habitat. 

She was up and running before she had time to process her decision. Grabbing her pack and slinging the strap over her shoulder, she took off at a dead sprint, leaping vines and pools of mud. Dodging tree trunks and rushing streams, she managed to find a small clearing (a desperate rarity on this particular moon) and turned, falling into a defensive pose. With a flash of gold, her lightsaber erupted to life. She spun in a circle, letting the yellow glow illuminate the clearing as darkness fell. 

The creature leapt out of the woods with a feral scream. It was huge and cat-like, with dark fur speckled with light spots. Its amber eyes caught the light of Rey’s saber, pale and slit-pupiled. 

“NO!” Rey yelled. She held her lightsaber in both hands, raising the hilt to her shoulder, ready to swing and strike. “Go! Get out of here!” She’d heard of creatures being scared off by shouting, but in this case it seemed about as effective as throwing pebbles. Swearing under her breath, she tightened her grip on her lightsaber, set her jaw, and prepared for battle.

The creature circled her, and she turned with it, poised to strike. It paused and growled, flicking its sinuous tail. 

“Go away,” she tried again. The cat hissed, baring its teeth. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was laughing at her. “I’m here on a very important mission.” She knew it couldn’t understand her. But her talking did seem to be keeping it at bay, if only for a little while. “I’m a Jedi. The last Jedi. And I’m looking for a place to build a new temple, so I can train the next generation of people like me.”

The cat growled. It fell back onto its haunches, crouched low, and narrowed its eyes.

Rey knew that look. She’d seen it a thousand times in a thousand people, a thousand starving creatures reduced to violence by hunger and desperation. Just before the creature pounced, she had a split second to wonder if it was the last of its kind, too.

The creature changed tactics mid-leap, slashing out as it dodged her first strike, claws catching in her arm wraps. She fell sideways with a yelp, catching herself with one hand, her lightsaber falling in the mud. She began to sink in and struggled, sweat breaking out on her brow, teeth clenched so tight she thought her jaw would shatter.

The creature circled back around. There was a spark in its eyes now, the vicious light of victory. It crouched low, claws sliding out, and made a sound somewhere between a snarl and a purr.

It struck again. Rey just managed to roll out of the way, climbing out of the mud and onto a slightly drier patch of earth. She regained her feet half a second before her opponent attacked a third time, whirling to avoid the claws and fangs. 

“No!” she shouted. She staggered across the clearing, putting distance between them. Unfortunately, this also put distance between her and her weapon. The only weapon she had.

 _No,_ she thought as the creature stalked her, sticking to the shadows as the lightsaber sank into the mud. _Not my only weapon._

Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind. The Force surrounded her, flooded her, filled her with strength. _Come on,_ she pleaded with herself. _Don’t fail me now._ She opened her eyes, raised her hand, and called the lightsaber to her. 

It didn’t come. Instead, pain shot through her body like lightning, burning from the inside out. Memories forced their way through the carefully constructed barriers she’d built in her brain, tearing through her defenses like steel through silk. _No! Not now, not now, not now—!_

The creature pounced, and for a heartbeat Rey was caught between two moments: the present and the past, this creature and the one who haunted her dreams. The cat-like creature’s golden eyes became round and sunken in a face pale as death, grey and wrinkled and fetid and…

Rey screamed. She screamed so hard she tasted blood, so hard she thought she’d flatten the trees around her. She screamed and her lightsaber flew into her hand, hilt nestled neatly against her mud-slick palm. She ran forward and slid under the creature, gutting it from throat to navel, lightning pulsing through her veins, and came up gasping, drenched in blood.

With an agonized cry, the creature collapsed in the mud, its fur singed and smoldering, eyes wide with pain. It clawed the ground, jerked its head, twitched its tail. And then it was still. 

Rey wasn’t sure how long she stood there afterward. It could’ve been seconds. It could’ve been hours. But by the time she once again became aware of the world around her, the sky was covered in stars, the jungle moon’s twin rising overhead. At some point she’d switched off her lightsaber, but still clutched it tight, hands shaking, teeth chattering despite the warm night air.

Eventually she found the strength to move. She tried not to look around at the clearing, at the burnt vines and smoldering palm leaves. _I did this._ She attached her weapon to her belt and pressed both hands to her face, wiping at her eyes. She was unsurprised to find her cheeks were wet with tears. _I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to._

 _Breathe,_ said a voice in her head that sounded like Finn. _In, out. Eight seconds. Remember? That’s what you taught me. Just breathe._

She did. In, out. In, out. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight_.

She straightened up, wiping at her face. She took one last deep breath and set her jaw again. “Okay,” she said aloud, just to hear the sound of a human voice. “Okay. I can do this.” It had been almost three weeks since the war had ended, and two since she’d set out in search of somewhere to build a new Jedi temple. She didn’t want it to be anywhere that the Jedi had already claimed or marked. She wanted this to be a fresh start.

She headed back toward her ship. Clearly, this was no place for a Jedi, let alone untrained padawans. _I’ll find it,_ she promised herself. _If not here, then somewhere else. There’s a whole galaxy out there. A whole universe. Somewhere in all that vastness there has to be a place for people like me._

Just before she reached her ship, a jarring pain shot through her chest. At first she thought the flashbacks were returning, but this was different. _The Force,_ she thought, and stopped dead, holding her breath. _Finn?_

Pain. Sharp, terrible, soul-deep pain. Anger and sadness and desperation. And there, caught in the flashes of emotion, a familiar voice, sharp with grief. _Why? Why them?_

“Finn!” she shouted. Every nerve in her body lit up with panic. She ran the last few paces to her ship, frantically opened the cockpit, and scrambled inside. Fingers dancing over the control panel with practiced precision, she tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. “I’m coming,” she said aloud. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”

Setting her jaw, she accelerated past towering palms covered in clinging vines, through rain-thick clouds, and up into the upper atmosphere. _I’m coming._ She reached out through the Force. _Hold on, Finn. I’ll be there soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be dramatic but I'd fucking die for Rey


	4. Chapter Four

****

**Chapter Four**

"What do you mean, he's _gone?_ ”

Rey emerged from her ship and crossed the hangar in record time, skidding to a halt in front of Finn. He was facing down Jess and Karé, both of whom were shifting nervously and fidgeting with their flight suits.

"Finn." Rey threw her arms around him. He hugged her back but seemed distracted, distant. She pulled away, leaving her hands on his shoulders, and scanned him. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Finn blinked, looking dazed. And then it seemed to dawn on him that she was _here,_ that she'd come back, and he exhaled shakily, reaching up to cover her hands with his. "Rey. Poe's missing."

A shiver ran down her spine. "I felt something," she admitted. "About a standard day ago, I felt pain. _Your_ pain." She fidgeted, suddenly nervous. What she’d experienced was invasive, too personal, like she’d been spying on him. "I came back as fast as possible."

“ _My_ pain?" Finn looked confused. "Yesterday? Rey, I don't..." And then understanding flashed across his face, and he turned away, blinking rapidly. "I'll tell you later. Right now we've gotta—"

"Jess. Karé." Rey rounded on them. "What happened?"

"Poe Dameron is a fucking idiot," Jess said. 

"We know," Finn and Rey said in unison.

"He snuck off last night after having some sort of confidential meeting with Alliance Command." Karé shot Jess a sideways glance, and Jess nodded in confirmation. "Pretty sure the meeting was faked. His X-wing's gone and no one's seen him since sundown. Alliance Command have no clue where he's gone, either, but it looks like he accessed a specific database around midnight last night."

"Okay," Finn said. "What database?"

Jess shifted from foot to foot, still tugging at the straps on her uniform. "So, about that—"

" _Jess._ ”

"I think he's going after one of the First Order's allies. Some kind of Corellian weapons supplier. At least that's what the last file accessed in the database suggests."

Rey felt Finn's mood shift from distress to outright panic. "He went _alone?_ To take down an infamous arms dealer? On _Corellia?_ ”

Jess sighed, running a hand over her face. "About a week back we were running a rescue mission on Corellia, breaking out refugees who'd been locked up for supporting the Resistance, and we ran into trouble. A gang called the Death Dealers attacked us; they said they worked for the appropriately-named Duchess of Death, who apparently runs her operations out of Tyrena City. Not surprising," she added. "That place is a crime-ridden hell-hole."

Rey smiled sarcastically. "Sounds charming.”

"Not so much.” Karé's made a face. “We barely made it out with our lives, let alone our weapons and ships. Almost lost Black One, too." 

"Great," said Finn, throwing up his hands. "So it's personal."

"Pretty much." Jess turned to Karé. "Go tell the others that Finn hasn't seen him, either. And let Command know their best pilot is still MIA."

“Will do,” Karé said. “What about you guys? What’s your plan of action?”

"Yeah, what about us?" Finn sounded caught between frustration and fear. "Someone has to go after him. Now."

Rey nodded. She took a deep breath, held it, released. She could feel Jess's gaze on her, hot and intense. "This is time critical, isn't it? Maybe Finn and I can take the Falcon and—"

"We already tried going after him in the air." Jess shook her head. "He's long gone. If Dameron doesn't wanna be caught, then we'll never catch him. Don't tell him I said this, but he's too damn good." 

"And he knows us too well," Karé added.

"And that."

"Then what—" Finn clenched his fists, "—do we do?"

“First of all, we alert command. Karé?” Jess raised an eyebrow at her companion.

“Oh, right. I’m on it.”

As Karé jogged off across the hangar, headed for New Alliance HQ, Jess took a step toward Finn and Rey, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "What we’re gonna do is get our shit together and go after him. But we're gonna have to do it with no backup and no clearance." She glanced over her shoulder. "I didn't wanna get Karé in trouble. She and whoever else she brings as backup will have to wait to be cleared before and after takeoff on Corellia. But we're gonna duck the radar and go in dark. Like Rey said, this is time critical. So. You guys in?"

Rey looked at Finn, then back at Jess. "Of course," she said.

Finn said nothing. He didn't need to. 

Rey put a hand on his shoulder and he jolted, inhaling sharply. "Finn," she said. 

"Rey, I—"

"I need to tell you something," they said in synchrony. 

"Oh."

"Oh, no, you go ahead."

"I—” Finn shifted, his expression betraying awkwardness and discomfort. "Remember when I said I needed to tell you something? Y’know, back in that sand pit when we all thought we were gonna die?"

"Finn, you don't have to—"

"I _do_ Rey. You need to know, and it has to be right now."

Rey startled as Jess cleared her throat loudly. "I'm gonna head over to the Falcon and give her a once-over,” Jess said. “But the sooner we get in the air, the better our chances of finding Poe."

 _Finding him alive,_ Rey thought. She swallowed hard. "We can do this on the Falcon. Finn?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah." He inhaled deep, exhaling with a shudder. "Yeah, let's do that."

* * *

As Jess steered the Falcon out of the hangar and up toward the outer limits of Coruscant's atmospheric border, Rey followed Finn to the ship's sleeping quarters. The room was cramped but enclosed, soundproof enough that Rey was sure Jess couldn't hear them. Not that she minded, but she wanted Finn to feel as comfortable as possible.

As soon as the door slid shut behind them, Finn turned around, looked her dead in the eyes, and said, "Rey, I'm Force sensitive."

Rey barely had time to process this confession before Finn moved on, tripping over his words as nervous energy surged off him in tangible waves. "I felt it, Rey. When you... during the battle over Exegol, I knew you were dead. That you'd died. And just now, right before Jess and Karé showed up in the hangar, I felt something happen. I felt it, Rey. I know. Wherever Poe is, he's in trouble."

Rey instinctively reached for his hands. "Finn." She smiled, hoping it wasn't as shaky as it felt. "I know."

He stared at her. "How long?"

"Well, not just anyone can hold their own in a lightsaber duel with Kylo Ren."

He ducked his head and exhaled, long and slow. He smiled, faint but genuine and just a little embarrassed. "I didn't know how you'd take it. I thought maybe—"

She hugged him. "Whatever you thought," she said into his jacket, "the truth is that I couldn't be happier for you."

Finn sighed, but didn't pull away. "If Poe wasn't—"

"We'll find him."

"How can you be so sure?"

She sat back, then splayed her hand on his chest, just over his heart. She closed her eyes. "I can feel it. Can you?"

He covered her hand with his. "Rey, I—"

"I felt something, too. I felt your pain, Finn. Yesterday, before you got back to base. What happened?"

Finn didn't respond. Rey wanted to open her eyes, but she didn't. Somehow, she knew it would be too much if she was watching him. Like she was looking through him, past his flesh and into his mind. She knew that feeling and would never wish it on anyone, let alone him.

The silence stretched on. She began to think he wouldn't continue, but then—

"I found the Stormtrooper who recruited me." Finn's voice was heavy with emotion. "I mean who _kidnapped_ me. He said he met my parents, that they tried to stop him from taking me, and the First Order killed them for it."

Rey turned her hand over and laced their fingers together. "Finn—"

"I had a sister and a brother. I don't even know their names, and now I never will."

Rey didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head. "Finn, I'm so, so sorry."

"They were Troopers too. My sister was shot down over Exegol, and my brother—" his voice choked off, and it took him a moment to speak again. "My brother died on Jakku the night Kylo Ren came after the map to Luke Skywalker. I watched him die. He reached out for me, and I didn't know. But he did. He knew."

Rey opened her eyes. He was watching her intently, which she hadn't expected. His gaze was full of fire, of anger and sadness and grief. "That's horrible," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Finn shook his head. He smiled humorlessly, and when he spoke again, his voice was sharp and bitter. "You know what the worst part is?"

 _How can it get worse?_ Rey thought, but she bit her tongue and swallowed her words. Instead she gripped his hand tighter, a silent promise that she was there. That things would be alright.

"Poe did it. He killed my brother on Jakku."

Rey froze. Her heart paused, then began beating furiously as cold sweat broke out on her body. Any thoughts of revealing her struggles with the Force faded to background noise. She began to speak, then stopped, pressing her free hand to her lips. Instead of speaking she embraced him again, and he clung to her, fingers digging into the muscles of her back and shoulders as she rested her chin in the crook of his neck. 

They sat there together, not talking, until Jessika announced over the intercom that they'd cleared Coruscant's airspace and were ready to jump to lightspeed.

"Come on." Rey was the first to pull away. She kept a hand on Finn's shoulder, grounding him. She offered her other hand and he took it. She pulled him to his feet, and together they headed back to the bridge. "We're going to do this, Finn.” She bumped her shoulder against his. "Everything will be alright."

"I hope so," he muttered.

They emerged onto the bridge just as Jess jumped to lightspeed. The stars liquified around them, and they spun into the void of space, hurtling toward distant Corellia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know "fuck" isn't canonically used in Star Wars but it's probably my favorite word ever so I'm using it anyway lmao
> 
> Thank you x 1000 to everyone who left kudos, subscribed, commented, or shared this story! I appreciate y'all so fucking much (<\-- see what I mean about my favorite word? I physically cannot stop myself from using it.) But seriously, thank you <3


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

"So here's the thing," Finn said as they walked through yet another gateway lined with eerie flashing lights, up a grey stone stairway and over an obnoxiously long bridge, "I really hate Corellia."

"Same," said Jess. She looked up at the yellow sky and made a face. "Grey and yellow are such a boring combination. Couldn't they have chosen a better planetary color scheme? Yeesh."

Rey laughed and Finn turned, giving them his best _'really, guys?'_ look. Rey immediately sobered, but Jess snorted, shaking her head.

"Don't worry," she told Finn. "It's a coping mechanism. Poe would've appreciated that one, trust me."

Finn's chest constricted and he sucked in a deep breath. "Don't do that," he said.

"Do what?"

"Talk about him like he's already dead."

Rey sighed. "She's not."

"I'm not," Jess confirmed. "Listen, I want him back safe as much as you do. Maybe even—"

"Don't finish that," Finn warned, turning away and picking up the pace. Up ahead, blocky grey buildings and slant-roofed skyscrapers rose like jagged teeth into the pale-yellow sky. The distant hum of civilization hung over the city of Tyrena like a sodden blanket, thick and stifling. 

As they reached the end of the bridge spanning the river that dissected the city into two distinct sectors, Finn paused, glancing around as not-suspiciously as possible. Which, apparently, was still pretty suspicious.

"Look natural, Finn," Rey murmured, walking up to stand beside him. "We're tourists, remember?"

Finn felt a pang of irrational irritation. "If we're tourists, then why didn't we take the shuttles?"

"Any of The Duchess's goons spot us snooping around and we'll scare them off and lose our shot of catching them off guard," Jess explained unnecessarily. They'd been over this a dozen times in the Falcon, and a dozen more times after sneaking past air control and into the city. Their mission stood on a knife's edge, and the smallest error meant certain death. "Besides, walking is better. Not so conspicuous, and it gets us a better sense of the city's demographic and layout."

Finn wanted to say, _'glad you're having fun playing tourist when our friend might actively be dying.'_ But that was extremely unfair, so he bit his tongue, clenched his fists, and kept walking.

They'd just entered Tyrena's western sector when Jess stopped dead, pressing a finger to the tiny transmission device nestled against her ear. "Suralinda" she said, making a broad and slightly exasperated gesture. "What've you got?"

"What did she find? Anything?" Finn heard the desperation in his own voice. "Did they get clearance?"

Jess made a shushing motion and pressed a finger to the transmission device. For a long moment she said nothing but "mhm" and "okay". And then she said, "Thanks, Suralinda. And don't worry, we're on it."

"What did she say?" Finn asked the instant the transmission ended. "Did she get ahold of that guy in Coronet?"

Jess nodded. "Suralinda's a journalist. She knows people no one should know."

"Even friends of notorious crime lords?" Rey looked slightly unsettled.

" _Especially_ friends of notorious crime lords." Jess smiled grimly. "And this particular friend of a crime lord told her that Dameron has history with The Duchess. Beyond last week's mission, that is."

"Okay, okay, that's good news," Finn said. When Rey and Jess looked at him like he was crazy, he quickly amended, "It's still a shitty situation, yeah. But in my experience, if someone has a personal grudge against a prisoner, that prisoner tends to stay alive a lot longer."

"Yeah," Jess said bluntly, voice carrying an undercurrent of fear. "So they can suffer more."

The spark of hope in Finn's chest fizzled and nearly died. "What else?" He took a shaky step toward Jess. "What else did she say?"

"Said we'd find a guy who knows where The Duchess keeps her prisoners. Apparently, he hangs out in an underground entertainment complex called Groola's Place. It's owned by Groola the Hutt, so we've gotta be extra careful not to start any shit, or else we're dead meat." She gave Rey a sideways smile. "Even if we have an insanely badass Jedi on our side, I don't particularly like our odds."

Rey smiled back, but Finn caught the slightly haunted look in her eyes. "Let's try not to start a fight, then."

"Anything else?" Finn prompted. "Any idea why Poe hates this Duchess, or the other way around?"

Jess's expression darkened slightly. "Let's keep walking," she said, and took the lead. "Look, I don't know how much Poe's told you about his past, and usually I'd let him keep his secrets, but this is officially a ' _need to know_ ' kind of situation, so—"

"Before you say it," Finn cut her off, "he told us he was a spice runner. So don't worry about giving that one away."

Jess shot him a disgruntled look over her shoulder. "What? No! That was a mission. He was in deep cover trying to track down First Order supporters with ties to the drug and arms trade. Mostly gangsters and mob bosses making weapons deals with the bad guys. Including a Hutt or two," she added with an air of disdain. 

"What?" Finn and Rey exchanged a startled look. "That is _not_ what he told us."

"Probably because he didn't wanna get you in trouble. That mission was still considered classified up until a week ago." There was a sardonic slant to Jess's voice. "Makes sense. He's probably been waiting for this opportunity to take down The Duchess for years, and now he finally has the chance. Those files he recovered from our old Resistance databases must've given him everything he needed to track her down."

"And on top of that he must have contacts from when he was undercover, right?" said Rey.

"Every undercover agent does," Jess confirmed. "Every agent smart enough to stay alive and in the game, that is."

"Poe's smart." Finn flexed his fingers, nervous energy bubbling up in his chest, choking him. "He's an idiot, but he's smart."

"He sure does know how to stay alive with virtually no self-preservation instincts." Jess sighed. "And that's why I'm not too worried. I mean, obviously I am, but he can handle himself. He's gotten out of tougher situations."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like escaping Kylo Ren's personal ship."

"Yeah," Finn said, feeling irritable again. "That's because I broke him out."

Rey walked up beside him and brushed her fingers against his. "He had you then," she said, "and he has you now. He'll be alright. We all will." He looked at her and she smiled, soft and just sincere enough that he believed her. 

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Let's find this Groola's Place and grab our guy. Or pay him off, or whatever undercover agents do. I dunno, guys. I was a Stormtrooper and a rebel, not a spy."

"I'll take point on this one," Jess said. They reached the base of a particularly steep stairway and ascended into the thickening forest of grey skyscrapers. The cheerful sounds of tourism had faded somewhat on this side of the river, but the buzz of the city surrounded them like the hum of a thousand hornets. 

"Do you have coordinates or anything?" Rey asked after a few minutes of silence. "For Groola's Place?"

"Suralinda said the front door is gilded gold, and there'll be at least two well-armed bouncers guarding it at any given moment. So getting in without a password or whatever might be rough."

Finn watched emotions flit across Rey's face in rapid succession—apprehension, resignation, determination. "I'll handle the bouncers," she said. "I know a trick or two." Her usual confidence was dampened slightly. Finn made a mental note to check in with her as soon as they had Poe back.

* * *

The bouncers, it turned out, were either extremely strong-willed or too stupid to realize Rey was using a mind trick on them. They seemed more confused than controlled, and in the end Jess got impatient and covertly stunned them both with a well-aimed blaster shot that passed through both their torsos and dissipated as they collapsed. 

"Let's go." Jess grabbed Rey's hand as the bouncers slumped against the walls, tugging her past the door and down the steep stairway beyond. Finn followed close behind.

The stairs led into a room full of laughter and the clatter of glasses and bottles. Finn paused for a moment on the last step, taking it in, and then stepped past Rey and Jess and into the crowd.

"Our guy is human, about five foot eleven, light hair, silver eyes," Jess said in what passed for an undertone in a cantina. "He'll be wearing a red leather jacket with a black scythe embroidered on the left pocket."

"And he'll be armed," Finn said. "Probably with something nasty."

Jess nodded. She was still keeping Rey close; again, Finn noticed a dull, faraway look in Rey's usually bright eyes, and felt a wave of worry wash over him. But before he could drop back to ask what was wrong, Rey looked up, staring straight past him through the crowd, and said, "He's over there."

Finn glanced around, spinning in a circle, taking in the room. "Uh, I don't see him, Rey. Did you—?" He made a broad, vague gesture between them. "Was it the Force?"

Rey shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I saw him. He just got up from the bar and headed over to that card table." She pointed out the darkest corner of the cantina, where three grey-skinned men and a muscular green-skinned aquatic woman were sitting at a round table. A fourth man, light-haired and bright-eyed, had just taken the last available seat at the table. He was saying something, gesturing wildly, grinning and winking between words.

"Looks like a charmer," Jess said. She jerked her head at their quarry, turning to Finn. "So. What's the play here?" 

Finn felt suddenly weak-kneed and nervous. If they fucked this up—if he fucked this up—they’d lose their only chance of finding Poe. It might be hours, day, years before they found another contact close enough to The Duchess to tell them where she was hiding. The fact that Suralinda had enough information from her journalist days was already crazy enough. Finn couldn't rely on any more miracles.

“We grab him.” Finn squared his shoulders and set his jaw. “We can’t risk him getting away. If he runs—”

“I’ll play him,” Rey cut in. Jess and Finn stared at her. “I’ll wager information for information. There has to be something he’d want from a Jedi.”

“Rey.” Jess frowned. “Is that really a—?”

“Good idea? Absolutely not! But I can pull it off, and if I do, we walk away from here without a target on our backs. If The Duchess works with Groola the Hutt, and all signs point to them being business partners of some sort, then kidnapping one of her closest allies in the middle of a cantina full of dangerous criminals is our worst option.”

“Not sure that’s our worst option,” Finn said, immediately spiraling into a pit of what ifs. “Sorry. Gotta stay positive.”

Rey put a hand on his forearm. The crowd jostled around him, but for one shining moment, he felt perfectly calm. “I can do this, Finn. Trust me.”

Finn exhaled, forcing a shaky smile. “Okay. Alright. I trust you.”

“Good.” Rey let go of his arm. She turned to Jess, fire in her eyes. “Keep watch, and don’t interfere if things go wrong.” She looked back at Finn. “Same goes for you. Remember, I can handle myself.”

“I don’t need a reminder,” Finn said.

Rey smiled. “I’ll only be a minute.” And then she ducked and dodged her way through the crowd, slipped between two large pig-faced men, and sat down at the card table. Even across the room, Finn could read her lips as she turned to their target, tilted her head coyly to one side, and said, “Let’s play a game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to "three idiots hunt a drug lord on her own home turf!" This can't end badly at all!
> 
> Also I changed the name of the story because I like shorter story names and also it highlights certain symbolism later in the story. So yeah! :)


	6. Chapter Six

****

**Chapter Six**

"Did you get anything?" Finn asked as Rey crossed the cantina to stand beside him. "Did you find out where they took him?"

Rey nodded. She noticed that Jess was missing and frowned, looking around, suddenly on edge. "Where's Jess?"

"Suralinda called to tell her that Black Squadron is preparing to land. They just need to be cleared to use the port on this side of the river first."

"She went to vouch for them?"

"I mean, we didn't exactly get official clearance to land ourselves, so I doubt that's it. They're probably regrouping to figure out a plan of attack. Or infiltration."

"Listen to you.” Rey bumped her shoulder against his as she headed toward the door at the far end of the room. "You sound like a real general."

"Funny thing is," Finn said, following close behind, "I'm not. I mean, c'mon. Titles are one thing, but that's not the life for me. Besides, the war's done, and I'm done with the war."

"That's fair." Rey scanned the crowd, hands tingling with nerves. It had been a close game—incredibly close—but she couldn't let on, couldn't let Finn know how close they’d come to losing it all.

"So I assume us walking deeper into this place rather than out of it means you got the information we need to find Poe."

"Yes, I got what we need. Oh ye of little faith," she added with a small smile. She hoped it looked more genuine than it felt. After all, Finn was right to doubt her. Usually it would've been an easy trick, just a few whispered words and the man would've told her everything. But now, cut off from the Force by the violence she'd come to associate it with, she was... well, she was just a scavenger girl from Jakku, destined for mediocrity. Suddenly angry, she pushed those thoughts aside and picked up the pace, clenching her fists and setting her jaw.

"I promise I didn't doubt you." Finn sounded embarrassed. "It's just—"

"I know, Finn. I'm only teasing." Rey drew a sleeve across her face, dashing away dust and sweat. "Ugh. That man was good, though."

"But you were better.” There was a hardness to Finn’s voice that surprised her. Finn was a kind person, a good man, and an incredible friend. But there were times when, like the rest of them, she glimpsed a spark of something darker behind his eyes. A spark of fury, of vengeance in the face of injustice. "How did you know how to play? Or did you just use a Mind Trick?"

"Some of each," Rey lied. "I learned a lot growing up on Jakku. Including how to entertain myself while also swindling arrogant men out of their not-so-hard-won possessions." She reached the end of the corridor beyond the main cantina and paused, hand hovering over the keypad, chewing her lip. _75677485_ , she repeated silently. _That’s what he said, right?_ She tapped in the code and, to her relief, it swung open with a mechanical click.

"How do we know this isn't a setup?" Finn asked as Rey pulled him through the door and into the musty darkness beyond. "How do we know the information was good? This could be a trap."

Rey paused, one hand still clutching his wrist, and closed the door behind them. It slid shut and locked with a soft whir. "I know, I _know._ But he seemed to be genuine. I have the feeling he was curious what would happen if he gave me enough to get my foot through the door and assumed it would be as good as handing me over to The Duchess himself."

Even though she couldn't see him in the darkness of the downward-sloping tunnel, she heard Finn's smile in his words. "You played him in more ways than one."

"I'm not stupid," Rey confirmed, "and I'm a pretty convincing actress when the need arises." She thought about Jakku, about all the years she'd spent learning how people like the card player worked, and how to find their weaknesses and slip through the cracks like a well-aimed shot from a hidden blaster.

They continued in silence after that. Finn put a hand on Rey's shoulder and she led him down, down into the dark, grasping at a feeling just out of reach. _Please,_ she begged the endless dark. _I need your help._

She felt nothing. The Force eluded her, the natural defenses in her mind blocking it like a bad signal. It was inside her, in her veins, in the fabric of the universe, and yet the thought of tapping into all that power made her feel sick. _Why now?_ she thought desperately. But she knew why. She knew exactly why.

"Hey, Rey," Finn whispered as they descended yet another lightless flight of algae-slick steps, "are you cold? You're shaking."

"Oh." She pushed down the urge to shrug off his hand, and instead reached up to cover it with hers. "I'm alright, Finn. It's just nerves."

He exhaled, breath uneven. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"He'll be okay, Finn. We'll be okay. And," she added before he could cut her off, "I'll keep saying that til you believe me."

He was silent for a long moment. They turned a corner, down a short flight of stairs, and emerged into a vast cavern far below the city proper. "I believe you," Finn said. He squeezed her shoulder then relinquished his grip, moving to walk beside her as the faint light of phosphorescent moss and algae lit the room around them with an eerie green glow. "I want to believe you."

_That isn’t the same,_ she almost said, then dropped it. Instead, she said, "You’re right. I can't promise anything for certain. Maybe things will be alright, and maybe they won't. But while we still have hope, we have a chance at a happy ending. And isn't that enough?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth that they heard a familiar voice cursing viciously, followed by the raucous laughter of human men. Rey barely managed to grab Finn's wrist to keep him from charging toward the sound, dragging him back into the shadows as the sounds faded toward the far end of the cavern.

"Let go," Finn hissed. "Rey, that was him! We have to grab him and get out of here."

Rey shook her head, heart pounding so hard she thought it would bruise her ribs. "Are you mad? We have no idea how many of them there are, or if they're armed, or a million other things. And besides, the first thing I said I'd do after finding this place was to call Jess and let her know what's happened." 

"Rey—"

"I _know_ Finn, and I'm sorry. But a few extra minutes shouldn't matter. He sounded very alive to me, and like you said, personal vendettas result in long-term prisoners."

"And extensive executions," Finn muttered, but let Rey lead him into a shadowed alcove, crouching down and pressing his clenched hands to his face as she pulled out a transmitter and switched it to the right frequency. 

"Rey to Jess. Hello? Do you read me, Jess?"

" _Loud and clear, Rey._ ” Jess sounded strangely cheerful in an oddly deranged way. " _We've got an army and we're coming to you. Just give me a moment to pinpoint your coordinates, and then—"_

Static. Loud, sharp, abrasive. Rey all but threw the transmitter in surprise, then frantically lifted it up to catch the faint light, fiddling with the dials, trying to get the signal back.

No luck. The transmitter was dead. Whatever had happened, their line of communication with Black Squadron was gone, possibly for good.

Rey hissed a long string of curses in as many different languages as she could remember, which was a substantial and ever-growing list.

"What?" Finn sat up, eyes bright in the faint phosphorescent glow. "Did we lose the signal?"

"Hold on, I just need to—" Rey began. She was cut off by a distant outpouring of curses that, by some miracle, were even more vulgar and varied than her own collection.

"Poe." Finn stood up, grabbing Rey's hand as he did. He turned to her, shoulders tensed, chin down, hand on the hilt of his blaster. "I'm going in. You can come or stay, but I'm not waiting for Black Squadron anymore. We lost contact. We're on our own."

She laced their fingers together and let him pull her to her feet, nodding. A weight settled in her chest, cold and heavy, but she inhaled deep and mentally shook herself. "You're right," she said as the distant cursing faded again. "We're on our own. It's up to us to save him now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so anyway @everyone who's commented, left kudos, subscribed, shared, or even just read this story, thank you x 10000. I love y'all.


	7. Chapter Seven

****

**Chapter Seven**

The Duchess had a throne room. There was no better word for it—narrow and long, vault-ceilinged and dramatically lit, with royal red rugs laid out from one end of the room to the other. The walls sparkled in the light of algae-burning lamps, the polished facets of precious stones sticking out of the rock walls. All of this wasn't enough to make it a throne room, but one look at the ruby-studded obsidian seat upon which The Duchess of Death sat made her royal status clear.

Rey knew this woman wasn't a duchess by blood; despite her elegant features, extravagant dress, and queenly posture, she was a Corellian gangster, most likely born and bred here, raised in a life of crime and villainy. But somewhere along the way she'd pulled herself up out of the proverbial sewers of society to establish a duchy built on a foundation of blood and death. If she wasn't actively threatening the life of one of Rey's best friends, Rey may even have been impressed. 

But The Duchess _was_ actively threatening the life of one of her best friends, so Rey pulled her lightsaber off her belt, holding it steady, ready to activate it at a moment's notice, and glared at her from the shadows.

Finn crouched beside Rey in the dark entrance to the room. Far from the ruby-encrusted throne, from the flickering patches of glowing phosphorescent algae, the carven stone and shadows hid them like a cloak. 

It was a miracle that Finn hadn't already run in, guns blazing, to kill The Duchess and her assembled guard. Rey had expected to have to restrain him, but despite the sub-optimal conditions, Finn seemed to be keeping his head.

For now.

"We need to be careful," Rey whispered. She could just make out a familiar silhouette kneeling between two brawny men with curved, glowing daggers. "If we make a wrong move, they could kill him."

For an instant, she felt Finn's panic, heard the desperate thudding of his heart. She inhaled shakily, knuckles white as she gripped the hilt of her lightsaber. "We can do this," she said, "but we need to do it right."

Finn nodded jerkily. She felt rather than saw him brace himself, muscles tensing, hands clenching into fists. "Okay. We need to wait for them to move him again, and then we can ambush them here in the hall. You can use a Mind Trick on them, and I can—"

"I can't," Rey burst out. She felt hot with shame and ducked her head, sighing. "I'm having... trouble. With the Force."

"Trouble? Wait, hold on, what kind of trouble?"

"I'm having a hard time connecting." She made a broad, vague gesture, searching for words that could even begin to describe it. "It's like a bad signal. I know it's still there, but it's just static."

Finn swore, and Rey was once again impressed and a little appalled by her friends’ extensively vulgar vocabulary. 

"Have you two been comparing notes?" she whispered, jerking her head at Poe. "You're both quite talented at cursing." She smiled shakily. Adrenaline flooded her system, shocks of anticipation and anxiety running through her fingers and exploding in her chest. 

Finn didn’t respond. His attention was locked on The Duchess and her prisoner. Rey felt his tension like a string pulled taut between them. She wondered if he could feel hers, too.

The Duchess was seated on the throne with one leg crossed over the other. Her dress was covered in tiny rubies, and she wore a silver tiara studded with white stones. Rey couldn’t tell from a distance, but she guessed they were diamonds. This woman wasn’t just rich, she was obtusely wealthy. And on top of that, powerful as hell. Under any other circumstances, Rey would’ve insisted on hanging back until the cavalry arrived, but these weren’t any other circumstances. One of her friends—her family—was in danger. And the fury born of fear rising inside her knew no bounds.

“Rey,” Finn whispered. She looked at him and he drew his blaster, holding it lightly in both hands. “We have to be ready to rush in if things go bad.”

She shook her head. “Stay back. We need to wait. If we panic, they’ll take us out before we make it four paces.”

“I said we should be ready, not charge in.”

“Right.” She held up her lightsaber, poised to activate, feet planted firmly on the slick stone, shoulders squared, chin up. For a moment she closed her eyes, reaching for the power within her. _Answer me_ , she begged silently. _I need you now._

Nothing. The more she searched, the harder it got, the barriers in her brain rising to protect her from the torrent of memories threatening to sweep her off her feet. After a few tense moments she gave up, sweat beading on her forehead, hands shaking around her saber’s hilt. She swore softly, implementing some of Finn and Poe’s more creative phrases, and wiped her face on her arm wraps. 

The Duchess finally broke the silence in the throne room. “Stand.” Her voice was warm, even gentle. But there was a current of command and dominance just under the sugar-sweet surface, a viper-like viciousness that promised vengeance for every order disobeyed. 

“Hey, get off. I can stand by myself.” Poe’s voice was low and rough; Rey winced at the tightness of his tone. The two guards backed off as Poe rose unsteadily to his feet. He lifted his head, squared his shoulders, and crossed his arms, a bold silhouette standing before a throne of blood-red stones. “Duchess,” he said. His tone was light, even polite. But there was an edge to it that Rey recognized at once. It said, _I’m not going down without a fight._

The Duchess smiled. It was warm and open, but her teeth were sharp and too white, her beauty like polished stone. Hard, cold, unfeeling. A snake in a woman’s body. “Poe Dameron. So nice to see you again after all this time.”

“All this time. It’s been, what, five years? Ten? Who’s even counting anymore?” 

“I am.” The Duchess’s smile fell away. “I’ve been looking for you. I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m still alive,” said Poe, still covering that strain of exhaustion with casual bravado, “so I figured that was the case.”

“You figured correctly. You were always clever. I should’ve known you weren’t who you said you were.” She laughed, shaking her head. Her red hair, curly and sleek, tickled her exposed collarbones and the slender curve of her throat. “You know, I tried to warn Zorii, but she wouldn’t listen. She trusted you too much. And look where that got her.”

“What are you talking about?” Poe sounded genuinely indignant. “Zorii’s fine. She survived the war, got off Kijimi, and has a chance at a new life. Besides, she never trusted me. You, on the other hand—”

The Duchess’s good-humored expression evaporated. She gestured at her guards and they grabbed Poe, shoving him back to his knees. He yelped, swearing loudly.

“Shut up.” The guard on the left elbowed him hard in the ribs, which only lead to a longer, louder string of curses. 

Rey felt Finn tense. She reached out and laid a hand on his wrist. He was shaking with repressed energy, his pulse wild under her fingertips. “Wait,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

The Duchess stood up. She crossed the stone dais and descended, standing a few paces from her prisoner. She watched him with eyes like sapphires, glittering in the phosphorescent glow of algae-burning torches. “You owe me, Dameron. You owe me a lot.”

Poe shook his head and laughed. “Yeah, right. I don’t owe you shit. You’re the one who screwed me over and you know it.”

The Duchess strode up to Poe and hit him hard across the face. She leaned down, glaring at him, fire in her eyes, and said, “You will do what I say, or you will die.”

Rey tightened her grip on Finn’s wrist. “Finn…”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “But Rey, if—”

Poe spit in The Duchess’s face. A spatter of red on her pale skin, blood like tiny rubies set in porcelain tile. 

Rey hissed a curse. “Why did he _do_ that?”

“Because he’s Poe,” Finn said, sounding caught between frustration and resignation. “He’s Mr. Always Have the Last Word. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to argue with him? It’s the worst, Rey. The absolute worst.”

“Well it’s going to be his very last word if he’s not careful.” Rey’s heart beat erratically as she waited for The Duchess to react, her palms beginning to sweat. She took a few deep breaths and reached for the calm inside her, for the soft, gentle place in her mind where light flowed like a silver stream. 

The Duchess smiled. She wiped at the blood on her face with one gloved hand, smearing it like rouge. “I could have made you rich. I could’ve made a prince of you, but you turned your back on me. And now look at you. You came running back the second the war ended, desperate for adventure, bored out of your mind…”

“Yeah, you got me there. I’m bored. I’m so bored I can barely stand it, but y’know what? That’s not why I came here. I came here to kill you, and that’s it. The war is over, but there’re still battles to win. You sold weapons to the First Order, and because of that, a lot of good people died. So I’m gonna avenge them, and that starts with you. And when you’re dead, I’ll tear the rest of this fucking place down until there’s nothing left of your duchy. Your Highness,” he added with mock reverence. “So, with all due respect, you can take your offers and shove them directly up your—”

“Another word and I’ll have my men slit your throat here and now.” The last dregs of The Duchess’s feigned warmth disappeared like frost on a summer morning. She bared her teeth, eyes flashing in the dim light. 

“No, you won’t. That would be too quick for you. Remember the thing with the Rancor and the acid? Because I do.”

The Duchess narrowed her eyes. Even across the distance, Rey felt the conflicting anger and intrigue pulsing off the gangster queen’s body, echoing through her mind. “Fair enough. But that’s not the reason I won’t kill you.”

Beside Rey, Finn relaxed slightly. She squeezed his wrist and he looked at her. She nodded once and he exhaled, shoulders falling. _Let’s wait,_ she’d said—asked, really—and he’d trusted her. She felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation, of love for him. _Thank you,_ she sent through the Force. He didn’t respond, but she didn’t need him to. She knew he knew, and that was enough.

The Duchess returned to her throne. She sat down daintily, flattening her gem-studded dress and crossing her ankles. “You’re bored. You’re haunted by the war, and you can’t escape it even though it’s over.”

Poe didn’t respond. Rey held her breath, a sudden spike of guilt piercing her. She’d been so wrapped up in her own traumas and fears that she’d forgotten her friends had been through hell, too. Her mind began to race, flipping back through her recent interactions with Finn and Poe, trying to pinpoint any moments where things had felt off, where she’d sensed something wasn’t quite right…

“We all have our demons,” Poe said. His voice was ice-cold, very unlike his usual tone. “And you’re one of mine.”

The Duchess laughed. “You and your clever words. Clever words can’t buy your life, Dameron. Not this time.”

“Tell me about this deal you wanna make, and then we’ll see.”

“Finally.” The Duchess smiled, flashing those sharp white teeth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Well, here I am, asking.” Poe pushed himself to his feet again. The guards moved to grab him but The Duchess shook her head, gesturing for them to back off. Poe spread his hands, chin up, facing his enemy on her level. “What’s so special about this mission that you think it’ll win me over? Especially now that you know who I really am.”

“How would you like to explore the universe?” The Duchess asked, and for a long moment, the entire room was silent. “You heard me. Not the galaxy. Not even neighboring galaxies. I’m taking about the whole entire universe, open under your wings, ready for the taking. I could give it to you. All you’d have to do is… well, all you’d have to do is what I tell, when I tell you.”

Another long silence. Rey could feel the indecision hanging in the air, Poe’s curiosity fighting to get the better of him. But then he laughed, shook his head, and said, “Sorry, but I’ll pass.”

The Duchess scoffed. “Don’t you even want to know my secret?”

“I know your secrets, Your Majesty. Enough to know I never want to work with or for you again.”

“Kill him,” The Duchess snarled, leaping to her feet. She pointed at one guard and then the other, cold fury burning in her sapphire eyes. “Cut his throat and dump him in the river. But first, make sure to cover your tracks. You never know when his Resistance friends will come looking.”

Before Rey could stop him, before she could hiss “ _No!”_ , Finn leapt out of the shadows, aimed his blaster at The Duchess from across the room, and said in a cold, steady tone, “We already have.”

A single shot rang out. 

The Duchess took a step forward, raised a hand to her forehead, and fell dead on the royal red carpet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yells across the room* I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR THRONE ROOM CONFRONTATIONS


	8. Chapter Eight

****

**Chapter Eight**

Finn didn’t see the guards in the shadows until it was too late. Blaster fire streaked across the room from all angles and he dove to the ground, rolling over his shoulder and coming up shooting. He hit two right away, but there were at least fifteen surrounding the hall, not including the two holding Poe.

Behind him, Rey cried out. Finn whirled and saw a flash of her lightsaber as she cut a man in half, twisting to deflect a blaster beam back into the shooter’s chest. 

“Rey!” His voice echoed eerily in the damp, vault-ceilinged room. “I’m gonna grab Poe and get out of here!”

Rey didn’t reply. He ducked as one of the guards shot a beam right past his shoulder, taking the split second before the second shot to glance over at her again. 

Her eyes were glazed, one hand upraised, fingers trembling. She had a red-robed guard pinned to the ground with the Force. He was writhing, scrabbling at his throat as he choked on air. Lightning snapped between Rey’s spread fingers, a web of deadly potential waiting to be unleashed.

Finn called her name again. No response. She twisted her wrist and the man collapsed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, clothes smoking and burning. Rey fell to her knees beside him, put both hands over her face, pressed her forehead to the ground, and screamed. 

For a moment, Finn was caught between two instincts: save Poe or save Rey. 

_Rey doesn’t need saving,_ he told himself firmly, even though, at this precise moment, it was hard to believe. _She’s a Jedi. The Force will protect her._

He knew that wasn’t how it worked. But he also knew that, after a quick glance at the situation unfolding at the opposite end of the hall, Poe was in more immediate danger of having his throat cut. So Finn turned back to Rey, shot the two guards closing in on her prone form, and said, “Rey! I’m getting Poe! Get up and get out of here!” 

He didn’t have time to see if she’d heard him. Nine of the seventeen guards now lay dead, blaster holes in five of them, one sliced clean in half, the seventh staring blank-eyed into darkness, hands still wrapped around his own throat. The other eight were at the far end of the throne room, two of them struggling with Poe, who had slipped away just long enough to start a proper fight. 

“Poe!” Finn ran across the room, ducking blaster fire as the remaining guards took aim. By some miracle he evaded the beams with only a few near misses, the smell of burning leather surrounding him as two beams streaked across his shoulder and bicep, grazing his jacket.

“Finn!” Poe sounded elated, so relieved his voice cracked. Or maybe that was because one of his two personal captors had just punched him hard in the jaw. 

Quickly getting the lay of the land, Finn ducked behind a natural out-jutting of rock and aimed at the guards approaching from the flanks. He took down four, two on each side, leaving two in the shadows and two struggling with Poe. 

“Are you cuffed?” Finn yelled, leaning out just enough to catch a glimpse of Poe. 

“Yeah.” Poe panted. He had one of the guards in a headlock, but that left the rest of him vulnerable to attack. It seemed that he and his second opponent had simultaneously realized that, because Poe let go just in time to block a series of vicious slashes aimed at his flank and shoulder, falling back as the first guard straightened up, looking murderous. 

“Hold on!” Finn ducked back behind the out-jutting as a barrage of blaster fire splintered the wall, precious stones clattering to the ground. How long, he wondered, had it taken to artfully weld all those stones into the walls?

Poe yelped, and Finn spun out of hiding just in time to shoot both guards straight through the chest—in through one, out through the other. They fell simultaneously, one to the left, one to the right. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Poe yelled. But there was no time to answer (as if Finn could tell him anyway) before the two remaining guards lurking in the shadows were closing in, blasters aimed at Finn. 

“Drop it!” one commanded. He was tall and handsome, with light hair and sharp eyes. Like his fallen companions, he wore a tight-fitting vest covered in red steel plates. The emblem of a black scythe was painted on his chest. “Drop it, or I’ll shoot!”

“Don’t drop it, Finn!” Poe said. “They’ll kill us anyway!”

Finn gave him a _look._ “Do I look stupid to you?”

“Yes,” the blonde guard said. He jerked his blaster up then down, indicating Finn’s weapon, then the floor. “Now.”

“Let’s talk about this,” said Finn.

The guard whirled and shot Poe in the shoulder; the force of the impact knocked Poe backwards and he sprawled on the algae-slick rock, one hand over the smoldering hole in his jacket. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s.”

Finn threw down his blaster. He put up his hands and faced death with as much fiery courage as he could muster.

The two remaining guards raised their blasters. Both aimed at Finn’s chest, eyes gleaming in the eerie blue glow of the algae-burning torches. 

“Say goodbye,” the blonde man sneered. 

Just then there was a flash of golden light, an arc of sunlight piercing the dark. The tip of Rey’s lightsaber emerged from the second guard’s torso, just below his ribs. The blonde guard went to fire but then Rey was there, spinning like a hurricane, deflecting the beam and stabbing him through the throat, kicking him in the chest and sending him sprawling. 

“Goodbye,” Rey said breathlessly, staring at her opponent’s twitching body. 

Finn had half of half a second to collect himself before the sound of running feet at the other end of the room had him scrambling for his blaster. But then Rey grabbed his hand and shook her head, the wildness in her eyes fading slightly. “It’s Jess,” she said. “Must’ve gotten our coordinates by triangulating my transmission earlier. I didn’t think it was possible, but…”

Sure enough, the figures rushing through the shadowed doorway transformed into the familiar faces of Black Squadron—Karé and Jess and Suralinda, accompanied by a veritable army of Tyrenian peace enforcers. 

“Thank the Force,” Finn breathed. And then he remembered that Poe had been shot and spun around, closing the three paces between them and kneeling by Poe’s prone body.

“Hey, buddy.” Poe smiled up at him, expression pained but cheerful. “Thanks for coming to rescue me.”

Poe's white shirt was stained with blood and dirt, a fresh cut on his cheek dripping red. Finn guessed the wound was from a ring; The Duchess of Death seemed like the type to have one on every finger.

"Don't worry," Poe said, accurately interpreting Finn's expression of deep concern, "it'll heal. I'll still be pretty."

Finn shook his head. "Not what I'm worried about." He pointed to the still-smoking hole in Poe's jacket, through which he could see—and smell—burnt flesh. "You got shot."

"Hey, I've been shot before, remember?"

"Yeah, in the arm. There's a difference between arm and shoulder."

"And what’s that?"

"Well," said Finn, "one is closer to your heart."

Poe grabbed Finn's hand, which was hovering over the blaster wound, and held it tight. "Not as close as you," he said. "My hero."

Despite the circumstances, Finn grinned. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was crashing hard, hands shaking and knees weak. He sat next to Poe, helping Poe sit up beside him.

"So," Poe said, looking past Finn at the growing assembly of Corellians led by Jess and Karé, "what did I miss?"

"Not much." Finn ripped off a relatively clean shred of his own shirt and stuck it to the cut on Poe's cheek. "There. Much better."

Poe laughed, trying and failing to duck away as Finn held it in place. "Ow! Hey, what are you doing?"

"You ever cut yourself shaving?"

"No."

"Well aren't you special."

"Maybe I am."

"No, you're not," Finn lied. Because of _course_ Poe was special. How could a man like him not be? And not in the way Rey was, either. Or even Finn himself—both of them had the Force, at least to some degree, but Poe? He was just a really good pilot with a seemingly endless supply of luck. And yet he'd survived all those battles, thrown himself into every fight, always on the frontlines. He'd won the love (if not always the approval) of Leia Organa and led a tiny rebellion against a massive and extraordinarily powerful military force. And he’d won. He was Poe Fucking Dameron, and in Finn's opinion, that alone was enough.

Of course, he couldn't tell Poe all that. Not when they were having such a rousing round of near-death adrenaline-fueled banter. Or ever, because that would mean an incredibly awkward conversation that could—and mostly likely would—permanently change their relationship. Whether for good or bad, he didn’t know, and he couldn’t risk the latter.

Besides, what did an ex-Stormtrooper know about relationship etiquette? It wasn't like they'd been allowed to fraternize back in the First Order. That didn't mean people didn’t—hadn’t—but back then Finn had been too awkward, too nervous, too young to initiate anything serious.

And now...

"You okay?" Poe said and Finn looked at him, trying for a smile and landing on a grimace.

"Honestly? Not feeling so great right now."

"Are you hurt?"

Finn started to say, "No, I would've noticed," but then a burning pang in his upper arm made him wince, instinctively clamping a hand over the singed patch of his jacket. The pressure burned and he flinched, retracting his hand. It was covered in blood. "Guess so," he said, staring dazedly at his red-stained palm. "I didn't feel it ‘til just now."

Poe's wore his emotions proudly, Finn had learned, and right now his expression was full of panicked concern. Before Finn could reassure him, he was scrambling to his feet, waving down Karé. "Hey! We need some medical assistance over here." The simple act of gesturing, hindered both by his shoulder wound and the cuffs on his wrists, sent Poe staggering, forcing him back into a kneeling position. 

Finn grabbed Poe's non-injured shoulder and scooted closer to support him as he swayed, looking somewhat dazed. "Poe, c'mon, it's nothing that—"

"Listen." Poe turned and gripped both Finn's shoulders, his expression deadly serious. "You get yours checked, and I'll get mine."

"Yours is worse."

"Then take off your shirt and show me yours."

Finn stared at him. Poe stared back. And then they both laughed, Poe grinning broadly and Finn shaking his head. "Careful with your word choice," Finn said, "or people will start talking."

"People are already talking." Karé approached, striding down the red carpet like it had been personally laid for her. "Alright, generals, on your feet. Let's get you out of here."

Finn took Karé's right hand, and Poe her left. She dragged them upright; Finn managed to hide a wince, but Poe was either too exhausted or in too much pain to hide anything. Karé seemed to notice and immediately wrapped an arm around Poe's middle, keeping him upright once he was back on his feet.

Just then, Rey and Jess jogged up to join them, leaving Suralinda to keep the peace enforcers occupied. "Oh, thank the Force," Rey breathed when she saw them. "Let's get out—"

"What happened?" Poe turned on Rey, and, to Finn's surprise, he sounded furious. 

Rey stopped a few paces away, eyebrows contracting, relieved smile turning to a frown. "What do you mean? We came to rescue you, that's what happened."

"Finn's hurt." Poe tried to take a step toward her but Karé held him back. "How did that happen? You're supposed to have each other's backs."

"I... he's hurt?" Rey whirled to face Finn, eyes wide. She walked up to him and put a hand over the blaster wound, applying gentle pressure, closing her eyes. "I can fix this," she murmured. "Don't worry, I can do this..."

"Rey." Finn put a hand on her forearm. "It's okay, you don't have to. It's a graze. I'll be fine."

"It's not fine." Poe still sounded pissed, and the fact that he was taking his anger out on Rey infuriated Finn. 

"Hey," he said, turning on Poe. "It's not her fault. What was she supposed to do? Huh? She's not invincible." He faced Rey again, suddenly anxious. "Are _you_ hurt?"

Rey shook her head, chewing her lip, and looked away. He caught a flash of shame, of sadness in her eyes. "It was a momentary lapse in concentration. Nothing more."

"Big words don't hide big lies," Poe said, and Finn glared at him.

"Give it a rest, okay? It's not her fault. She's not the one who got us into this mess in the first place, running off like a reckless idiot to antagonize crime lords on fucking _Corellia_."

"Finn—" Rey started, but Finn shook his head, stalking up to Poe. Fury like fire burned in his chest, rising like bile in his throat. There was a moment where he wanted to follow The Duchess’s lead and punch Poe right in the face, but he reigned it in, clenching his fists so tight it hurt. "Do you know how irresponsible you are? How much trouble all this was, how close Rey and I came to getting killed?"

Poe's anger melted off his face, replaced by guilt. "Finn, I—"

"I don't wanna hear it. Not right now." Finn clenched his fists and turned away, looking up and meeting Rey's wide-eyed gaze. She closed her eyes again, and for a moment he heard her voice in his head, distant and distorted but comprehensible. _Breathe, Finn. In, out. In, out. Count to eight._

And Finn did. _In, out. In, out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight._

"Better?" Rey whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

He exhaled fully, then nodded.

"If you're all done insulting each other like a bunch of children," Jess said, crossing her arms and fixing Poe with a meaningful stare, "let's get out of here. The peace enforcers already killed or arrested everyone in this place, so it'll be a lot easier getting out than it was getting in."

Rey smiled at her. "Thank you," she said sincerely, "for finding us so fast. You saved our lives."

"Nah," said Jess, "knowing you, you would've managed."

Rey's smile brightened a thousand-fold. "That's so sweet."

"It's the truth."

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you find us? You must've triangulated the call, but I don't see how—"

"It was a feeling.” Jess shook her head, looking caught between awe and awkwardness. "No idea how else to put it."

Finn stared at Rey and Rey stared at Jess. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was, and honestly, how could she not be?

"Well." Rey cleared her throat, voice wavering slightly. "Let's talk more later. Right now we need to get these two—" she gestured at Finn and Poe, "—to a proper healer."

Finn, who was finally beginning to feel the effects of his wound, nodded. "Sounds good. Karé?" He ignored Poe's indignant expression at not being addressed directly. "Are you ready to head out?"

"Yeah, I'm—" Karé began, but just then Poe spun away from her, breaking her grip on his waist and approaching The Duchess's corpse. "Hey!" Karé called after him. "What are you doing?"

Poe knelt by the body and began searching it. "She's got this data drive," he said, "with a transmission on it. I don't know if you heard what she was offering me in return for eternal servitude, but I overheard some of her closest associates talking about it back in Groola's Place before they caught me, and if it's true, this could be a major game-changer. Which means we definitely can't let it fall into the wrong hands again."

Finn tried to push down his curiosity in favor of giving Poe the silent treatment, but curiosity won out. He approached the body as well, standing over Poe with his arms crossed. "What's the transmission about?"

"Got it." Poe stood up, holding out his hand. In his palm was a tiny external drive, the kind that would fit perfectly in BB-8's data dock. "This," he said with feverish reverence, "holds the secrets to instantaneous universal travel."

Finn, who knew for a fact that wasn't possible, sighed. "Yeah, so she was definitely lying. And so were those guys you overheard in the cantina."

Poe pocketed the chip. "Guess we'll see." Then he leaned down and picked up The Duchess's tiara, which had fallen onto the polished stone, hefting it in both hands. 

"You gonna put that on?" Finn said, and Poe laughed.

"I mean, I'd make a radiant duchess, but nah." Waving off Karé's offer of assistance, he stood and crossed the room to stand in front of Jess and Rey. "Here." Even across the echoing distance, Finn could hear the apology in his tone. "This is for you."

To Finn's surprise, Rey let Poe place the tiara on her head, smiling as he struggled to make it fit over her styled hair. "Thank you, Poe. Apology accepted."

Finn approached, and Karé followed close behind. "You look good," Finn told Rey, and she made a face, pulling herself up into a regal stance, haughty and arrogant. 

"Why thank you, good sir. I have chosen my finest tiara for this occasion."

“This occasion," Poe said, "was supposed to be my execution."

"I'm terribly sorry." Rey turned to him and bowed her head slightly, still maintaining her exaggerated royal poise. "Consider yourself fully pardoned." 

Poe raised his hands, pulling the chain of his cuffs tight between them, and grinned. "You wanna get these off me, Your Highness?"

In a flash, Rey drew her lightsaber. "Come closer." She beckoned with one finger. "I promise I won't chop off anything important."

* * *

Once Poe was free of his cuffs and Rey had extracted herself from the influence of the tiara, Jess led the way back down the red carpet to where Suralinda and the peace enforcers were waiting.

"You took your sweet time playing dress-up," Suralinda said with a sharp-toothed smile. "Meanwhile the grownups were cleaning up your mess."

"Save it, Suralinda." Jess waved her off. "It's called having fun."

Suralinda rolled her eyes. "Like you'd know."

Jess, to Finn's relief, chose to disengage rather than escalate the verbal sparring match. "Alright." She clapped her hands, the sound echoing through the vaulted hall. "Let's head out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-near-death-experience flirting is my favorite y'all, not gonna lie.
> 
> (Sorry I deleted this chapter and reposted it; ya girl forgot to edit it first lmao)


	9. Chapter Nine

****

**Chapter Nine**

He was exhausted. His whole team, including Rey and Finn, had demanded he rest as soon as he was cleared by medical, but he’d waved them off and made for the Spire, desperate to get to his apartment and talk to BB-8 first. _‘I’m fine,’_ he’d said. And he was. He wasn't in danger anymore, and he was back in New Alliance territory. _‘Nothing to worry about. I’ll be okay. I’ve got Finn with me, yeah?’_

Finn had immediately agreed to accompany him back to the Spire, promising Black Squadron that he’d look after their wayward commander. He hadn’t seemed annoyed, exactly, but definitely wasn’t happy about it. He made that very clear as soon as they were out of earshot of their companions.

“You’re running on fumes,” Finn said as Poe unlocked the back door to the towering apartment complex. “You can’t keep doing this, Poe.”

“I just wanna talk to BeeBee for a few minutes. Then I’ll sleep, I promise.”

“Fine. Where is BeeBee? I thought he’d be with you. You leave him behind or something?”

"He was charging," Poe explained as Finn followed him up the winding stairway. "I left him behind because—"

"You didn't wanna get him killed, yeah." Finn sounded breathless but determined. "Or destroyed. Can droids die?" Before Poe could reply he added, "Hey, why are we taking the stairs? At this point it's just masochistic."

"I don't wanna run into anyone. I don't have time for long conversations or explanations right now."

"You do realize the war is over, right? We've got all the time in the universe for long conversations."

Poe reached his floor and tapped in a code on the keypad. The light flashed green and the metal door slid into the wall. "Yeah. Which means I'll have plenty of time to sleep. Later."

Finn followed him into the circular hallway, heading for room 1742. Poe's room. "If you don't drop dead first."

"That's kind of dramatic, don't you think?"

" _You’re_ kind of dramatic. That's what I think."

Poe unlocked his room. "Hey, you don't have to do this with me. If you wanna rest, go rest. I mean, your room's right there." He indicated room 1743. When picking living quarters they'd insisted on being neighbors, and even though Finn had initially been put off by living on the seventeenth floor, Poe's enthusiasm for heights had proven convincing enough for him to stay.

BB-8 was exactly where Poe had left him, domed head down, lights flashing in a slow, rhythmic pattern. BeeBee was far past fully charged, and Poe, knowing how uncomfortable that made his droid, quickly crossed the room and manually rolled it off the charging pad. "Hey, buddy. Sorry I left you on there so long. You okay?"

BeeBee's head slid up to perch on top of its body. A few beeps, initially annoyed, turned to concern when the droid noticed the sling and bandages wrapped tight around Poe's shoulder.

"Oh, this? No, I'm fine. No, it doesn't hurt."

Finn made a disbelieving noise. Crouched in front of BeeBee, Poe shot him a look that said, _C’mon, man. Work with me here._

"Yeah, he's fine, BeeBee," Finn said, a little louder than necessary. "Just a minor kidnapping situation on Corellia. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm _fine_ ," Poe insisted, just as loud. When Finn gave him another disbelieving look, he added, "You got shot, too, and I don't see you resting up in the medical center."

"I got grazed in the arm, not shot in the chest."

"Shoulder."

"That's not what it said on your medical report." 

"You read my medical report?"

"Well you weren't going to, and someone should." 

Poe didn't have a good response to that, so he turned back to his droid and said, "Listen, BeeBee. I found something I want you to take a look at."

BeeBee beeped, still sounding more concerned than excited.

Poe sighed. "Yeah. We got The Duchess. She's dead."

" _I_ got The Duchess," Finn said. “You got captured.” 

Poe turned to stare at him, annoyed. "Hey. Are you just gonna stand there making me look bad or are you gonna help with this?"

Finn shrugged. There was something off about him, a tightness to his expression, a tenseness in his stance. "It's putting a data chip into a droid’s drive. Not exactly rocket science."

"No, but I’m good at that, too," Poe said, trying not to feel hurt by Finn's sharp tone. He pulled out the data drive and held it out. BB-8 beeped curiously, and Poe nodded. "Yeah, there's a hologram on it that I want you to project. Think you can do that for me?"

More beeping. The droid opened its data dock and Poe inserted the drive.

Immediately, the projector light on BeeBee's dome lit up and a shimmering hologram appeared in the middle of Poe's living room.

The image was grainy and blue, shimmering and shifting as the recording glitched, static cutting off bits of the audio as the figure began to speak. 

_"To whoever receives this, listen closely."_ The man was broad-shouldered and handsome, clean-shaven, his dark hair slicked back, light eyes narrowed and features set in an expression of intense concentration. _"We are under attack. There's been a mutiny. People are afraid, and even though the mission succeeded, they are now saying the ships are damaged and we won't make it back._

_"By the time this transmission is received, I may already be dead. But if this message reaches anyone associated with the Rebellion, I beseech you: send a rescue party to retrieve us. We have information that could change the galaxy—no, the universe—and bring a quick end to the war against the Empire."_

The holograph flickered out for a moment then expanded again, the image resetting. The audio was disjointed but comprehensible. _"Hello,”_ said Admiral Torrent. His expression was relaxed, even cheerful. It was obvious that this message had been recorded before the previous one _. “I’m Admiral Nova Torrent. Three standard weeks ago my fleet and I set out on a secret mission codenamed Operation Redshift, sanctioned and funded by the Rebel Alliance, to test a theory suggesting near-instantaneous cross-galactic travel may be possible using black holes as jump-off points. If this is true, we will return with information and resources from a neighboring galaxy, providing invaluable support to the Rebel cause."_

The image reset for a third time. The Admiral's clean-shaven look was gone, his eyes sunken and haunted, his hair too long and matted with blood. _"This is my final message. I'm sending it from the brig of my own ship._

_"The mutineers won. They've taken the fleet and left us stranded. They plan to stay here, in this galaxy far from home, to avoid the conflict with the Empire."_ More static, heavy breathing, anguish in his next words: _"There's a chance that my crew—those who remained loyal—will survive on this rock they've left us on. They've grounded our flagship and made a prison of it; we have enough supplies to last a few years if we're careful, but I can't know when—or if—this message will be received. If we make it, I'll send another transmission in a year's time. Please, if you receive this, contact us. Come find us. Down with the Empire, and long live the Rebellion."_

The transmission ended. The holograph fizzled and died. There was a long stretch of silence as Poe held his breath, hands clenched, waiting.

The message reset. _"To whoever receives this,"_ said the clean-shaven echo of Admiral Nova Torrent, _"listen closely."_

"Turn it off," Poe said, and BB-8 did. He crouched down in front of his droid, put a hand on its head, and said, "Search through the remaining data. I need to know if they sent instructions on how to get to them, or how to create a wormhole... anything."

BB-8 chirped, flashing its lights, and then a starmap burst to life in the place where the Admiral had been. It expanded to take up the whole room, tiny shimmering dots of blue suspended like motes of dust, slowly rotating around a massive central sphere.

"Lights to 10%," Poe said, and the room dimmed. In the half-dark it was easier to make out the shape of this galaxy, thick with strange stars spinning endlessly around a supermassive black hole. "Look at this," Poe breathed. He walked in a circle around the room, passing his fingers through nebulae and pausing to inspect star systems.

"This is crazy." Finn spoke for the first time since the transmission began. Poe turned to see him standing with his arms crossed, suspicion written all over his face. "Okay, so maybe this is possible. But don't you think it's a lot more likely it's a trap?"

Poe frowned. He became suddenly aware that he had a headache, deep and pulsing and vicious. He rubbed his temples, wincing. "A trap for who?"

Finn shrugged. "The Rebellion? This sounds like it was sent years ago. I have no idea how it managed to reach us in thirty-some years or less if it's coming from another galaxy."

"Huh." For a moment, Poe hesitated, doubt welling like blood from a knife wound. Then he shook his head (a mistake, given how much that simple motion hurt) and swept his hand around at the unlabeled systems and stars. "Maybe they found a way to expedite the transmission and route it through the portal they came through. That would cut out millions of light-years and almost instantaneously transmit their message into range of any ships or civilizations attuned to a certain frequency. It might also explain why the Admiral’s second set of transmissions a year later are missing—maybe they just haven't reached us yet."

"Which frequency did this Admiral Torrent guy use? Didn’t the Rebels have their own channels of communication? 'Cause that would be crazy if he used those, Poe. Do you know how easy it is to intercept and decode a transmission like this? For all they knew, it was as likely to end up in the Empire's hands than with the Rebels."

"But that's the brilliance of it." Poe heard himself speaking, heard the enthusiasm in his own voice, but his hands were shaking, his mouth was dry, and his headache was approaching a critical crescendo of blinding pain. "It's just a random transmission. If the Empire somehow got ahold of one specific Rebel frequency, they'd have to monitor it carefully for _years_ before this transmission made it from the galaxy next door to our receivers. Actually, like you said, it's extremely likely it reached whoever recorded this—" he tapped BeeBee's closed data dock, "— _after_ the war ended. It's a fucking miracle anyone heard it at all."

"Yeah, well, the Admiral couldn't have known that." Finn sounded irritated again. "Listen, Poe, you said you were gonna check this out and then rest. You've checked it out. It'll still be there tomorrow. Actually, it'll be here forever! That's the beauty of owning a thing on a peaceful, post-war planet. No one's gonna sneak into the Spire to steal it. And y'know what? If it makes you feel better, you can sleep with the drive under your pillow."

Poe turned away, back toward BB-8, who was beeping softly as it projected this foreign starmap. "First off, I did _not_ say I'd check it out and then rest. What I said was, _'I'll talk to BeeBee for a few minutes, and then I'll sleep'_."

He felt Finn's stare on the back of his head. "You realize that just proves my point more."

"It's only been a couple minutes, Finn. Just..." For a moment his vision darkened, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself. "BeeBee, are any of these planets or moons labeled?"

BB-8 zoomed in on one major star system, chirping affirmatively. 

"Carceris Carci," Poe read aloud the name of the only labeled planet. Or moon, rather—it was much too small to be anything else, and seemed to be caught in the outer orbit of a nearby gas giant. "Huh. So that must be where the mutineers stranded them."

"Must be," Finn said. "You done yet?"

Poe rounded on him, weariness, pain, and excitement blending into anger. "What's your problem, Finn? Why are you being like this?"

"You want that listed in chronological or alphabetical order?" Finn's eyes flashed in the dim light of millions of shimmering blue stars. "You're selfish, you know that? You can't get over the war, and you're dragging the rest of us into it with you without even asking how we’re handling this. You're not the only one with problems! I can't fucking sleep nine nights out of ten, and Rey is traumatized by whatever happened on Exegol. So stop all this, stop acting like—"

The wave of guilt that hit Poe was overwhelming. He crossed the room, grabbed Finn by the lapels of his leather jacket, hands shaking, and said, "You're right, Finn. Fuck, you're right, I'm sorry."

And then he passed the fuck out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyway I STILL don't know what I'm doing with this story and also I just ran out of backlogged chapters so who knows how long it'll be before I put another one out. I'm hoping to have some writing time this weekend, though, so hopefully I'll get another few chapters done then! Yee-haw!
> 
> As always, thanks for the support and feedback y'all. <3 It means a lot to me! :,D


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